


Serenity

by ClementineStarling



Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Ace!Blackwood, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Birching, Bondage, M/M, asexual bdsm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 06:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6144205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClementineStarling/pseuds/ClementineStarling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coward worries. Frets and fidgets beyond reasonable measure. He cannot help it, it's in his nature it seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Serenity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scrapbullet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapbullet/gifts).



> Was originally supposed to be card!fic, but then I decided to stick with your respective wishes instead. 
> 
> Fill for the prompt "Homoromantic asexual!Blackwood, pretty please with Coward on top and frigging himself desperately because Henry abhors it."
> 
> Sorry, I could not bring myself to actually deliver on the second part of the prompt, because ow.  
> I hope you like it nonetheless.

Coward worries. Frets and fidgets beyond reasonable measure. He cannot help it, it's in his nature it seems. Blackwood has seen the small, yet unmistakable signs early on in their acquaintance: a trembling of the hand, the faint sheen of sweat on his brow, the nervous jump of the pulse in a protruding vein. And although Coward is a proficient actor, such physical reactions cannot be hidden from watchful eyes, least of all from as keen an observer as Henry Blackwood. 

It has made him wonder what could be the reason for this disposition. Perhaps Coward is too smart for his own good? A brilliant mind can be prone to anticipating the worst outcome of events. Or perhaps it's a degeneration of the blood that's made him so skittish? It would hardly be _exceptional_ , many men of Coward's status are simply... overbred. Noble and nervous as racehorses. Too many marriages between cousins may refine certain traits, Coward's translucent beauty bears witness to that, yet also enhance others: a tendency towards paranoia or a streak of madness. 

Not that uncovering the cause of Coward's behaviour really matters; as things stand, it is more of a theoretical problem than a practical one, for Blackwood knows exactly how to handle Coward's condition. 

The first time he wants something of him, he is not giving him a choice. He does not ask, does not demand it either, but expresses his wish with the persuasiveness of an already fixed future. What he wills, shall come to pass, he can tolerate no doubt about it. And just as intended his assuredness rubs off on Coward, whose demeanour softens, almost imperceivable. Blackwood can see how the tension fades from his face, how his smile loses some of the strain, and he realises he wants to see more of this relaxed version of Coward.

When Coward returns to report on his accomplished mission, there is something about him, a certain kind of glow, of confidence, that fills Blackwood with indescribable pride. It touches on something inside him, he did not even know he had. A strange sensation, warm and golden, intoxicating in a quiet, comforting way, that makes its way onto his features, and is promptly reflected by Coward, who lights up even more, begins to burn with a passion for the tasks Blackwood trusts him with.

From then on Blackwood issues proper orders. Instructions to be carried out, commands to fulfil. He never even gives Coward the chance to refuse or question his own abilities, just presumes he will do what he is told and succeed without even taking the possibility of failure into account, and it works nearly like magic. For a while at least.

One day he comes home late and finds Coward has already arrived before him, finds him in his parlour curled up on the settee, ashen-faced, biting at his nails. The flutter of panic is obvious, more obvious than Blackwood has ever seen, and he knows that this is a moment from which there is no return. He should end this, here and now, send Coward away and never see him again, lest... lest he will be caught in this as much as Coward. But one glance at the large blue eyes, the quiver of his lip is enough to dissolve all resolution. He sits next to Coward on the sofa and pulls him close, and Coward is unable to resist, just falls against him like a doll to be petted and stroked. The touch of his fingers is soothing in the feathery hair, and soon Cowards breathing calms, he stills against Blackwood's chest, a warm, oddly familiar weight. 

Blackwood is surprised how much he enjoys this, how utterly right it feels.  
To hold Coward.  
To care.

He leans down to press his lips into that tousled hair, bury his nose in it, his arms tightening around Coward's body as if otherwise he would escape his embrace, and Cowards sighs and snuggles closer, and thus they stay for a while, in a state of perfect bliss.

When Blackwood finally moves, Coward clings to him, as if their bodies had already found a shared form, and he tilts his head, offering his mouth, half-open and wet like blossoms in the morning, and Jesus Christ, he looks lovely, temptation incarnate. But Blackwood only places one long forefinger over those luscious lips and whispers “Not like this, Daniel,” and he is not sure whether it is disappointment or relief he sees flickering over Coward's features. 

“Pledge yourself to me,” he says, “be mine to do with as I please, and I promise to look after you, do anything in my powers to relief your pain and ease your fears.”

Coward stares at him, unguarded and wide-eyed, and then he nods and reaches for his hand, bows down to nuzzle into the palm, kiss his fingers, chastely, reverently, an act of submission, and something in Blackwood's chest unravels at the sight, and he honestly swears to care for Coward to the best of his abilities.

The next time Coward is in a state he has him kneel. 

“Calm down for me, darling,” he says, “Can you do that?” 

Coward nods, teary-eyed, and bites his lip, but he stays on his knees, even after the floor must have become unbearably hard, and he stills. He slips into a sort of trance while Blackwood is watching, and at some points he isn't sure whether he may have fallen asleep.

When Blackwood finally lifts him to his feet, he is almost too weak to stand, sways, unsure on his feet, and Blackwood ushers him gently to the sofa, where indeed he does fall asleep immediately, head in his lap, peaceful as an angel.

The day comes, when kneeling is not enough, when the nervousness is so prominent, like an itch in Coward's body that makes him twist and turn, Blackwood has to get rope and tie him down.  
“Hush,” he says and strokes Coward's hair until he stops trembling, until the tension fades from his limbs and all the strain has disappeared from his face.

Blackwood isn't too surprised when Coward comes to him with downcast eyes and asks to be punished. “I have disappointed you,” he says as an explanation, his pale cheeks rosy with embarrassment, and offers Blackwood a birch made from five beautiful twigs, that leave even more beautiful welts on Coward's bare arse, while Blackwood has Coward tell in excruciating detail how he has failed him.

It's only a minor transgression, hardly a reason for chastisement, but Blackwood understands that it is his undivided attention that Coward craves, the knowledge that he cares even about the smallest of missteps, and it's his responsibility to give him what he needs. 

After the birching Coward is so exhausted, Blackwood allows him into his bed for the first time, tucks him in gently and places a kiss to his forehead. Coward curls up like a kitten, and purrs softly, when Blackwood pets his head, and Blackwood waits until he is fast asleep, before he undresses and crawls under the blankets himself.

It is strange to wake to the warmth of a body pressed close to his, a face buried against his shoulder, an arm wrapped around his chest, though not unpleasant. He listens to the deep, calm breathing, lets himself be lulled back to sleep by the even, soothing sound of air flowing through Coward's lungs.  
He has almost dozed off again when Coward shifts, snuggles closer, and Blackwood can feel his erection, hot and hard against his leg.

It does not have to mean anything, Backwood tells himself, it's but an involuntary reaction, a weakness of the flesh; he's made his terms clear, and Coward agreed to them, and even if Coward should feel like this, if he does want him in such a fashion, it's just another small flaw Blackwood is graciously willing to forgive. He pulls the blanket tighter around them and drifts back to sleep.


End file.
